


JD Ain't Such a Hot Shot

by presidenthomewrecker



Series: Some Like It Hot [1]
Category: Heathers: The Musical - Murphy & O'Keefe
Genre: A Small Amount of Ableist Language, Angst with a Happy Ending, Cuddling & Snuggling, Everybody Lives, Excessive Swearing, Homophobic Language, Hospitals, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Near Death Experiences
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-25
Updated: 2017-04-02
Packaged: 2018-09-11 21:20:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 17,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9028804
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/presidenthomewrecker/pseuds/presidenthomewrecker
Summary: Kurt and Ram, by some miracle of terrible aim, both end up surviving JD's failed murder plot. Ram, being unconscious for most of the ordeal, adjusts back to normal life rather well.Kurt, on the other hand, does not.





	1. Chapter 1

One…Two…

“Three.”

The sound of gunfire explodes behind them, and Kurt instinctively whirls. He turns just in time to see Ram falling forward in a bloody heap. There’s a growing puddle of blood underneath him, one that’s only getting bigger with every second.

“Holy crap!” The panic is building in his chest, winding around his throat unbearably tight. Adrenaline pounds its way through his chest, and when he looks down, he realizes that he’d broken into a sprint at some point. He can’t even feel his legs.

“Kurt! KURT!” A voice booms from over his shoulder. He doesn’t even need to look to know that it’s JD, probably saving a bullet just for him.

“You killed my best friend!” he screams. He knows it’s stupid to give away his position, but he can’t help it. All too badly he wants this to be some stupid prank, for JD to laugh and say no and then Ram could stand back up—

Something whizzes past his ear. Kurt sprints in the opposite direction, clearing rocks and twigs. Duck and weave. Just like football practice. Easy. His heart is pounding against his ribcage, and he’s pretty sure one of his feet is bleeding, but most of the feeling in his body has melted away. Instead there’s this constant mantra of _run, run, run_ , thundering through his veins, pounding against his shoulders, and propelling his feet forward.

It’s not long before he loses the sense of where he is or where he’s going, but when a fence comes into sight, he races for it. JD’s a wimpy punkass, and the time it’ll take for him to haul his scrawny ass over the fence is time Kurt can use to get away. Something pierces his foot the second he puts the weight of it against the fence, but he keeps climbing regardless.

By now, he’s so out of breath that things are going blurry. From what breath he can muster, he’s pleading for mercy, but it’s so slight that Kurt can’t even hear himself speak. He’s having a hard time remembering just what it is he’s doing and where he is. From behind him, he can hear JD’s muttering something under his breath, some nonsense about killing dinosaurs, and that gives him a slight pause.

The bullet tears through him.

Pain blossoms in his chest, spreading up to his neck and over to his lungs and heart. It’s throbbing, unending, and all he can really keep track of is the torpidly nearing ground. Time isn’t really a factor anymore. His last few seconds could feel like hours.

He hits the ground, unable to feel anything except the dirt, cold and packed against his bare cheek. Things begin to get a little hazy, the world around him blurring. He can vaguely hear someone—a girl, probably Veronica—yelling, but he can’t quite make out what she’s saying. It’s like she’s speaking in French—and there’s a reason he isn’t taking French this semester.

Now they’re both yelling.

There’s some vague fighting.

A struggle.

Another gunshot.

Sirens.

And then nothing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dead gays sons are gay but also alive

Kurt isn’t sure when the next time he comes to it.

All he knows is his body is no longer encased in the general warmth he felt last time he closed his eyes.

In fact, he’s freezing, and his skin is prickling against the cold.

“Oh, fuck. He’s waking up!” someone says off to his right.

The loud outburst has Kurt’s heart racing. It doesn’t sound like JD, but if there are people here that means that he could someone near, right? What if he’s waiting just around the corner? Fuck, he’s probably just waiting until Kurt’s alone so he can finish the job. Off to his left, something beeps frantically.

“Didn’t the doctor say he wouldn’t be up for a few more days?” another asks.

“Whoa. Should that be happening?” a third person asks, and it’s weird because he almost sounds like—

JD can get fucked. He’s not pretending to be unconscious just so that fucker will leave him alone.

The light hanging overhead is almost blinding. He has to squint to see, and even then, he can just barely make out three figures hanging over him, and even then the effort is causing stinging pain in the backs of his eyes.

“Kurt?” someone calls. “Kurt, can you hear me?”

“Dad?” Kurt’s taking a stab in the dark here. Everything’s weird and floaty, like he’s underwater, and words aren’t processing right. He can barely focus on what’s being said, let alone who’s saying it.

The figure to his right sags in relief. “Yeah, buddy, it’s me.”

Kurt opens his mouth to ask a question—because where the fuck is he and what’s going on—but someone else speaks first, someone whose voice he recognizes in a second. “Is he okay?”

Everything in the world stops.

Ram.

 _Ram_.

He’s not dead. He’s alive. He’s really actually alive and really actually in this room. When Kurt saw him hit the ground—he didn’t—he wasn’t—

Kurt’s gotta see him.

However, the second that he attempts to sit up is that second that Paul stops him, a hand firm on his shoulder. “Now, Kurt. Don’t sit up and strain yourself.”

“But—I have to—” He’s embarrassed to admit that he’s already panting.  His heart’s beating like crazy, and the monitor behind him reflects it. His eyes go to Ram, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by either parent.

“Ram, get over here.” Bill instructs. “You’re acting like so much as breathing on Kurt’s gonna kill ’im.”

Ram seems reluctant as he walks over. He’s still half-positioned behind his father, legs locked like he might have to run at any moment. “Is he alright?”

“Well, you could ask him yourself.” Bill points out, giving Ram a playful slap on the back, but Ram says nothing else.

Paul and Bill are giving each other strange looks. Kurt glances helplessly between them as they silently communicate, a conversation that’s ended with a definitive nod.

“We’ll be right back.” Paul announces.

“Ram, hold down the fort.” Bill adds.

They’re both out of the room before Kurt can even blink, leaving him with a very awkward and nervous-looking Ram.

Kurt watches him carefully as he fidgets. How much of that night does he remember, if any of it? After all, he hit the ground first. Did he even hear anything or was he instantly unconscious? One on hand, Kurt wishes the former, just so he’d have someone that understands this crazy, scary, fucked-up situation he’s in, but on the other, he wouldn’t wish that on anyone, and especially not Ram.

It’s a long, long pause before Ram finally speaks. “Hey.”

Kurt’s stomach sinks. So they can’t just be normal after that, can they? “Hey.”

“So, uh, how ya holding up?”

“I feel like shit and it’s cold as hell.”

Ram immediately straightens up. “Oh! I can turn the heat up for you, if that’s okay.” Before Kurt has the chance to answer, he’s already dashing off to the other side of the room and fiddling with the thermostat.

Kurt fumbles for words. “I…thanks.”

“So, uh…do you know where you are?” Ram asks.

“I’m in…the hospital?” Kurt glances around the empty room, before remembering why he’d even be here in the first place and looks down at his chest. Sure enough, he’s sporting bloodstained bandages wrapped around his torso. He touches his fingers to it, finding that the pressure elicits a sharp burning sensation.

“Yeah. After that stupid wimpass shot the both of us, apparently Veronica fought him for the gun. Don’t know how, but the crazy bitch was able to get it from him, and…I dunno…Someone called the cops after that.”

“What about you? Why aren’t you…you know?” Kurt glances tellingly at the empty hospital bed to his left.

Ram shrugs. “I only passed out from the pain. I just needed a brief surgery and then I was done. JD didn’t shoot me anywhere important.”

And there goes his barely-there composure. Things come trickling back into Kurt’s memory from that night. The promised three-way. Running around the cemetery in his underwear because of that fucker JD after he—

Fuck.

Everything from that night proceeds to hit him full force, one grisly, unwelcome image after the other. Ram hit the ground—there was so much blood—Ram—Ram—

And suddenly Kurt’s sobbing. Kurt’s sobbing and he can’t stop it. There are knots in his intestines that just won’t go away, and something unknown is clamping unbearably tight around his chest.

“Hey…” Ram takes a hesitant seat on the edge of his hospital bed. He’s so clearly out of his depth that it almost makes Kurt want to laugh. “I…it’s okay. Don’t cry about it, dude.” He awkwardly pats Kurt’s shoulder, but the way he’s doing it makes it just feel like a series of really gentle slaps.

Before Kurt can stop himself, he grabs Ram’s jacket and pulls him into a forced hug. He knows he’s been irrational, he knows he’s acting gay, but everything in his world is crumbling around him and the only thing that can help him cope is a hug from the one person he was so sure he’d lost.

“Bro, it’s okay.” Ram mutters. He’s so scared to touch Kurt that he’s not even hugging back. He’s just kind of sitting there and letting Kurt cry into his shoulder. It all makes Kurt just want to throw up, because nothing is the same or how it should be or even how he wants it be.

Nothing is right.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> sad football gay is sad at school

Things move in a blur.

They tell him it’s been a week when his dad takes him home from the hospital. His dad tells him it’s been a week when he says it’s time for Kurt to go back to school.

For the most part, Kurt just nods his head and goes where they tell him to, because it’s hard to argue. He hardly does anything but sleep, and he certainly can’t do much to tell the days apart anymore.

It’s when his sleep schedule starts to even out that his dad deems him fit to go back to school. And while just the thought of going back leaves him weak and exhausted, he does like the idea of seeing Ram again.

Ever since that day in the hospital, Ram has just…disappeared. No phone calls, no visits, no excuses—because honestly, the asshole lived right next door; it wouldn’t have killed him to stop by at least once. But ever since Kurt had that absolute mental fucking breakdown on Ram’s shoulder, Ram’s been completely absent. Which sucks, because Kurt misses his best friend. A lot.

So when his dad drives him to school with a backpack full of make-up work he never did and a bottle full of pills he had to take by the handful, he manages a smile and tries not to look too downtrodden. At the very least, he’ll see Ram again.

Well, that’s what he thought.

Even at school, Ram isn’t around. It’s understandable for at least first period, because that’s the one class they don’t have together, but after that, it just gets puzzling. Ram got out of the hospital way earlier than he did, and Ram hardly ever got sick. And he couldn’t be skipping, because they always skip together. So where the fuck is he?

School’s starting to make even less sense than it used to, in every little aspect. Maybe it’s the mass amount of painkillers that he’s on, but he physically cannot focus on anything for more than a minute.

What makes it worse is that everywhere he turns, people are staring at him. Why the fuck are so many people staring at him? They don’t even say anything, either. They just look at him. Watching. Waiting.

It fucking sucks.

It’s third period when Kurt finally catches sight of Ram. Well, not so much Ram as a mess of curly black hair in the distance.

Thank God, thank God, thank _fucking_ God.

Kurt exhales, and about two weeks of anxiety slips out of his body with that breath. His stupid idiot brain had been warping things all day, convincing him that maybe JD was back and killed Ram while Kurt had been unconscious. It had been so stupid, now that Ram’s right here in front of him, but at the moment it had all seemed so real.

“Hey, bro!” Kurt calls, shoving aside some nerd on his way over.

“Hey…” Ram blanches and takes a slight step back, and Kurt feels his stomach twist.

Are they still weird? Did they still have this stupid tension between them? Why couldn’t things go back to the way they were? Kurt would kill for a touch of normalcy right about now.

Maybe if he just pushes a little more, if he acts like things are, then they will be. “I haven’t seen you in weeks.” He forces his smile in place in the vain hope of injecting some joviality into the atmosphere.

Ram sucks a breath in through his teeth. “Right…”

“Like, what the hell, man?” Even though it’s completely and totally an accusation, he still tries to make it sound like he’s joking. “Why didn’t you come visit?”

“Well, I’ve been busy.” Ram mutters in that clear I’m-Ram-and-I’m-bad-at-lying kind of way.

Kurt frowns. “Bullshit. What’s the real reason?”

“I just…Listen, I…Just not right now, dude.” Ram won’t even look him in the eyes. He keeps glancing around at the students walking by, watching them to see if any of them are watching him.

“You are avoiding me.” The realization comes out of his mouth like vomit.

“Listen, I’ll explain later, but I…” His eyes fill with horror, and he realizes that it’s too late.

“Aww, look, the school fags reunited!” Heather Duke pops out of nowhere to cheer. The other two Heathers are with her, and while Heather Mac looks rather shocked, Heather Chandler’s expression remains completely stoic.

“What the fuck did you say, Duke?” Kurt challenges, spinning on her. Anything to keep from looking at Ram, who’s constantly shrinking away from him, one tiny movement at a time.

“Oh, please. Save your energy. Wouldn’t want you to chip your nail polish.” Heather takes his hand and mockingly inspects his nails. “From the looks of this, you need all the help you can get in staying pretty.”

Kurt jerks his hand friend, ashamed to admit that his cheeks are burning. “Fuck off, Duke!” He spins, attempting to storm off, but he’s suddenly flanked by one of the stupid preps.

“Hey, I need some money and I want my dick sucked. What do you say?” The prep pats his shoulder.

Kurt shoves him away. “Fuck off, man! I’m _not_ gay, and even if I was, I could do a lot better than you.”

Then Craig—fucking _Craig_ , who’s one of his closest friends from the football team—goes after him. “Dude, can the denial. We all know that you and Ram are gay for each other.” Ram takes another notable step back at the sound of that, Kurt notices.

“Didn’t think you’d be such a slut, though.” Scott adds. Scott, he could understand. Scott’s a fucking prick.

“Too bad JD can’t fucking aim!” one of the geeks spits. He gets right in Kurt’s face as he hisses, “Would’ve saved the rest of us a lot of trouble.”

And of course the nerds would turn on him. That, he can understand, because he gives the little worms a lot of shit. It’s his team jumping on him that has him reeling, so much so that he can’t do anything except stand there and fume as the geek walks away with way more pride than he should ever have.

Another member of his team—Jimmy—claps ram on the shoulder. “You gonna let him talk to your girlfriend like that, Ram?” Okay, Jimmy’s a bit of an ass too. But no one likes him. Or at least, that used to be the case. Now the rest of the team is cheering him on as he nudges Ram.

There’s a beat of silence, a single beat of silence that Kurt silently wills Ram to not go along with this. This is nuts. This is all lies. He has to back Kurt up, because he’s Kurt’s best friend and he knows that none of this is true. Please. Please.

Ram bites his lip. “I’m not…He’s…We’re not…”

The group lets out a collective. “ _Oooh_.” All eyes go back to Kurt.

“Trouble in paradise.” Eric comments. He mock-pouts at Kurt and puts an arm around his shoulders. “Tell you what, buddy, I feel so sorry for you. You can blow me for only ten.”

Kurt ignores him. “Ram, you can’t be fucking serious right now. You know this is all bullshit. Tell them none of this is true! What the fuck are they even talking about?”

Ram averts his eyes and says nothing.

“Okay. Thanks. That’s good to know. Fuck you.” He stomps off in the opposite direction away from the small group of football players that _used_ to be his fucking friends. But not before screaming a crisp, “All of you can get fucked!”

Ram. Fucking Ram being a fucking asshole. What the fuck was that? Was he not even going to stand up for his best friend? Bullshit.

No wonder he hadn’t seen Ram at all in the last few weeks. Obviously he was trying to salvage all that was left of his precious reputation, at the expense of Kurt’s. Those rumors—whatever those rumors even _were_ —probably got twisted more than once to make Ram look better. And then he didn’t even bother to _look_ at Kurt during the resulting shitstorm. He just watched and let Kurt get skewered by the student body like a passive fucking dick.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.

Kurt charges into the nearest bathroom and locks himself in a stall.

His eyes aren’t burning. He’s not crying, and even if he is, it definitely isn’t because of those assholes. Fuck those guys. And fuck Ram. Fuck all of them. He doesn’t need any of them. Especially not Ram. Whatever.

He doesn’t even realize he’s been having a panic attack until the room spins and he crashes into the wall. His knees are buckling underneath him, dragging him down to the dirty bathroom floor. He can’t get a breath. He’s trying to breathe, but all he’s doing is fruitlessly gasping for air, struggling to feel like anything’s normal. His mouth dries out quickly, hurting his throat, worsening his headache, but he can’t stop and he refuses to curl up on the floor like a fucking twelve-year-old girl.

His head spins again, and he’s stumbling forward, almost falling headfirst into the toilet. His stomach lurches.

Fuck it. There’s no use. So like a sissy pansy loser faggot, he sinks to the floor, tucks his knees into his chest, and starts to sob.

This is officially the worst day of his life.

He knows it’s probably been the better part of an hour, but it only feels like a second before the door to his stall swings open and none other than Heather Chandler is standing over him.

Kurt’s concern, of course, is hiding any evidence that he’d ever been crying. He swipes his eyes as fast as he can and sniffs up the bit of snot that had been hanging over his upper lip. “Heather, fuck off! What are you even doing here?”

Heather quirks her lips and makes some weird gestures with her hands. Then she stares at him like she expects him to understand that.

God, how stoned was she? “What?”

With a roll of her eyes, Heather reaches into her expensive handbag and pulls out a notebook. She writes something, which she shoves in his face, when she’s done. “This is the girl’s bathroom, idiot,” it read.

Kurt doesn’t have a cover-up or a joke or excuse. Another tear rolls down his face and he knocks his head against the wall. “Of fucking course.” He closes his eyes, waiting for the onslaught of laughter and insults that never comes. He peeks up at her with one eye. “So what? Where’s everyone else? I’m sure they haven’t run out of material.”

Heather takes a moment to write something else. “That was shitty,” it reads.

“Whatever.” Kurt scoffs. “And why aren’t you talking?”

Much to his surprise, she sits down beside him on the floor. At least now he can look over her shoulder as she writes. “Can’t,” she writes. “JD wrecked my vocal chords with that drain cleaner. He tried to kill me too.”

Oh yeah. He remembers hearing about that. Heather’s valiant “suicide attempt.” He thought she was just messed up in the head. Turns out she had a target painted on her back as well. “Oh. That sucks.” It’s awful, but it’s all he can manage.

Heather shrugs. “So’s every other goddamn thing in the universe.” Before he can respond, she holds up a finger and writes more. “HD doesn’t speak for me. She just thinks she does.”

Kurt puffs out his chest, trying to look cool an nonchalant as he responds, “Whatever. I don’t even care what that bitch says. She can get fucked too.” It’d probably sound a lot more believable if his voice wasn’t still wobbly with tears.

“You’re crying.” Heather points out.

And just the mere mention of it was a fresh set of tears welling up in his eyes. “Fuck off, Heather,” he says, though it comes out choppy and strained.

But she doesn’t. She just sits there and writes some more. When Kurt refuses to even look in her direction, she shoves the notebook directly into his face. “I got off easy,”  
 it reads. “People think I’m goddamn Ernest Hemingway. People think you’re a joke.”

“Yeah, can I ask what the hell happened back there? What were they even talking about?”

Heather turns to her notebook and writes for a very, very long time. And with each passing minute, Kurt’s stomach twists another time. By the time she’s done, his intestines are knotted into a Boy Scout’s wet dream.

“JD is a lying motherfucker. When he was arrested, I was still unconscious in the hospital, so people got his story first. He wouldn’t fess up for trying to kill me, and no one believes me anyway, but he admitted to trying to kill you. The story he went with is that you and Ram offered him fifty bucks for a 3-way and he thought it was his duty to get such ‘disgusting’ people off the face of the earth. He earned a couple points with the shitty bigots for that one. But Veronica did stop him. That part’s true. And him aim sucks. That part’s also true.”

“Holy fucking shit.” Kurt mutters. JD’s still ruining his life—wherever he is. Where is JD anyway? Hopefully in an institution, because that fucker’s off his rocker. Not that that was stopping him from being a douchecanoe. Even after Veronica ruined his plans, he still had a backup strategy to make sure that everyone was miserable.

What a dick.

Heather’s face softens, for just a second. She writes, “It doesn’t mean shit, but you’ll get used to it after a while.”

Why is she offering him condolences? That’s when he realizes he’s started crying again. Fuck.

“You better not tell anyone about this!” Kurt warns. Yeah, he’s now the laughingstock of the school and the local sissy fag, but that doesn’t mean he’ll let what’s left of his reputation go to shit.

“How the fuck would I tell anyone?” Heather writes. She raises an eyebrow.

“Oh. Right.” He sullenly wipes at his eyes again. At this rate, he’s never going to be leaving this bathroom with dry eyes, which is the only way he could leave this bathroom with dignity because probably everyone saw him break down in tears the way he did.

Heather nudges him, directing his attention back to her notebook. “Sit with us at lunch.”

Kurt wants to laugh out loud, because this is probably the most absurd thing to ever happen to him, including getting chased through a cemetery by a creeping trench coat wearing kid screaming about dinosaurs. “I’m not gonna be a fucking Heather.”

Heather rolls her eyes. “The school already thinks you’re gay. There’s no point in fighting it. Plus, I’ll keep the football losers off of you.”

“Yeah, no.” Kurt sniffs. “I still have my dignity.”

“No, you don’t.”

“I still pretend to have my dignity.” Kurt growls. “So I’m not hiding behind a hot chick for protection.”

“You’re a fucking moron.” Heather writes. “You’re going about this all wrong. You can’t fight what they think of you. Play into who they expect you to be.”

Kurt’s thoughts go back to the whole incident in the hallway to find that Heather isn’t wrong. The more he tried to refute them, the more fun they had in proving him otherwise.

Heather shows him the notebook again. It’s like she can read his mind. “That was a passing period. Imagine what they’ll do to you during lunch.”

A second panic attack taps against his ribcage just from thinking about it. He can only imagine the free-for-all that would be.

Heather watches him as he tosses the idea around, studying his face. “So fucking sit with us.”

God, he doesn’t have any other option, does he? It’s either sit with the Heathers or die, pretty much. And he’s not entirely sure if he can survive a second murder attempt.

Heather taps his shoulder. “Bro, you’re gonna be the only guy at a table of four of the hottest chicks in school,” her notebook reads. “That’s a good thing.”

Kurt forces a laugh. Guess he’ll get to be in the middle of a Heather Chandler-Veronica Sawyer sandwich after all. Dreams do come true. “Fine.”

There’s that haughty pride shining in her eyes as she stands. She rips the paper free, crumbles it, and flushes all evidence of their conversation down the toilet.

“Why’d you do that?”

Her only response is handing him the notebook, which he takes as a go-ahead to start snooping through it.

It’s poetry. Page after page after page of poetry. It’s all about outer shells and inner selves and the fleeting illusion of beauty. It looked like the whiny bullshit the English teacher always made them read. Why…?

Right. The pretty girl with feelings, with substance. Reading Sylvia Plath while writing the most beautiful suicide note anyone ever put to paper. The one who cut out her own silver tongue to abdicate her power and better the world.

This was the Heather Chandler the world now expected.

And this was the world that expected a brand new Kurt, damned if he played into their expectations, damned if he didn’t.

Fuck.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> what the fuck i just wanted to write a dumb little shipfic but suddenly its turned into a commentary on the crushing expectations of society holy fuck jd would be proud


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt is king of sass™ confirmed

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ayo fuck scott pass it on

Most of the football team leaves him alone at lunch.

Except Scott.

Fuck Scott.

“Aww, Kurt. You don’t wanna sit with us anymore? I know we can’t do your nails like your fellow girls can, but at least give us a chance.”

Heather Duke pops out of her seat without being prompted. “Fuck off, dickhead,” she commands. “Why don’t you and the rest of the football team go and form your usual circle jerk?”

“But it’s not the same without ol’ Kurt here passing around ones.”

Heather Chandler gives him a look, and Kurt cringes. He knows exactly what she wants him to do, what the entire school expects him to do. But there’s no way he could do that. If he says it out loud, admits it, then it makes it real and he’s not sure if can handle that.

“Right, Kurt?” Scott’s eyes cut past Duke and right at Kurt.

He freezes, until Heather Chandler gives his hand an encouraging squeeze from under the table. It’s weird how she doesn’t even have to be looking at him to a) know exactly what he’s thinking and b) communicate her response.

_It’s only real if you believe it is._

And that kind of makes sense. He knows he’s straight, and apparently Chandler does too. That’s enough. So he squares his shoulders and smirks. “Bro, out of all the dicks on the planet, why do you think I’m drooling over yours? We all share the same locker room, buddy. And it’s not that impressive.”

Veronica bursts into her usual boisterous laughter, and Kurt can see Scott’s self-esteem dropping in real time.

His face is red as he retorts, “You’re lucky you have your army of girls protecting you!” And thus he retreats to the safety of the football team.

“Kurt, that was _amazing_.” Veronica tells him.

“So what are we talking, since you’re the expert?” Duke asks.

Smirking, Kurt holds his index finger and thumb out, barely three inches apart.

The girls explode into a fit of laughter.

Veronica’s still snorting when she waves at someone across the lunchroom.

“Don’t tell me you invited Martha Dumptruck over.” Duke moans.

Veronica sighs, and Kurt immediately gets the feeling that this conversation has happened more than once. “Heather, she’s my friend. She gets to sit here, too.”

McNamara offers an enthusiastic hello, and even Chandler gives her a little wave. Veronica and Martha share a brief hug after she sits down.

“Hi, Kurt.” Martha says. “It’s good to see that you’re out of the hospital.”

Kurt fixes her with a glare. “You can’t be serious.”

“What do you mean?”

“Don’t you think I got what was coming to me?” That’s what the nerds thought. And the geeks. And the football team. And the preps. And probably Ram. And just about everybody but the Heathers at this point.

But Martha looks genuinely shocked. “Why would I think that?”

“Maybe because I was a fucking asshole who almost got exactly what he deserved?”

“Just because you weren’t very nice doesn’t mean that you deserve to die.” Martha points out. “I heard what some of those kids were saying to you, and it was really uncalled for.” She reaches out, putting her hand over his. He lets her. “Don’t let what people are saying get to you. You’re not a bad person, and you definitely didn’t deserve to die.”

Kurt blinks about five times, because he’s not going to burst into tears a second time today. He covers it up with a laugh. “Now I feel bad for smacking your lunch tray every day.”

 “An apology would be nice.” Martha prompts.

“Martha, I’m sorry for being something no one in the football team has.”

Her brow furrows. “Excuse me?”

“A massive dick.”

Veronica falls out of her seat laughing.

He barely has time to soak in the glory before Heather Chandler is tapping him on the shoulder. Once she has his attention, she starts throwing her hands around again.

“What the fuck is she saying?” Kurt asks, turning to the people around him.

“She wants to know if you wanna learn how to sign swear words.” McNamara tells him.

His mouth drops into a surprised smile. “There are swear words for that?”

Veronica fondly rolls her eyes. “I think that’s a yes.”

Chandler carefully and slowly signs out each word, and Kurt mimics her until he has it right. It’s so cool that Kurt finds himself actually laughing. For the first time all day, he’s actually having fun.

He feels something nipping at the back of his head and turns in its direction.

Ram’s staring at him, watching him. He doesn’t look happy or sad. Just. Neutral.

Kurt’s now quite sure how to react, so he sits there, staring at Ram while Ram stares at him. His hand is half-lifted in an almost-wave before he catches himself. Ram doesn’t give a shit about Kurt; he’s made that much crystal clear. He might as well give up on that. New gay Kurt wasn’t going to deal with that.

Kurt squares him up with a glare before disregarding him completely.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt's day gets worse

School sucked.

Home was even worse.

Paul doesn’t get home until late at night, so Kurt spends most of the evening by himself, trying to convince himself that he absolutely didn’t hear someone sneaking around outside. And on some level, he wishes that Heather hadn’t demanded to give him a ride home, because if he’d walked, he’d be tired enough to fall asleep.

The doctor’s trying to keep Kurt lucid enough to justify him going to school, so without emotional trauma of school to distract him, the drug withdrawal is hitting Kurt full-force. And the worst part? They’re taking him off the pills he needs the most.

So tonight’s his first night without his sleeping pills.

It’s his first night without his sleeping pills, and _it fucking sucks._

It took him a grand total of an hour and a half to decide that he’d forgo sleeping until absolutely necessary. Because the second he started dreaming, all he heard was gunshots. Everything smelled like gunpowder and blood, and the only two things he ever saw were Ram’s corpse and JD aiming a killing shot.

He paces aimlessly around his room—but never further than that. He can only imagine what’s lurking in his house, waiting to kill him. Thank God he got a lock for his door when he was thirteen. Of course, it had been so his dad wouldn’t catch him jacking it, but now that lock may very well save his life.

It becomes more of a battle to calm down, he finds.  Lie down. Think happy thoughts. Take deep breaths. Distract yourself with music. Do whatever you can to not think about whatever it is you’re trying not to think about.

Kurt’s about to start blasting his shitty music when he hears the creaking of the stairs.

He goes still all at once.

It’s just his dad. It has to be his dad. That’s it. But the more he thinks it, the less he believes it. A glance at his clock tells him that it’s barely past midnight, and if Paul doesn’t make it back by eleven, then he’s not coming back until the next night. No, this had to be someone else.

Fear coils around his neck, cutting off his airflow. His breath rushes in and out of his lungs, desperate for release but unable to find any. He glances around the room, looking for a place to hide. He could hide under his bed like a little kid, he supposed, but he already knew that wouldn’t work. JD makes a sport out of hunting people down.

His doorknob rattles. Someone’s picking his lock.

  1. JD is right on the other side of that fucking door, ready to finish what he couldn’t get done in the first place. Even if he ran, there’s no way he’d survive that a second time. No, he might as well fight while he still has the advantage.



It’s thirty long, tense seconds before his door creaks open and a shadowy figure creeps its way inside. Kurt throws the entirety of his body weight, knocking JD to the floor with a cry of “Get fucked!”

JD grabs Kurt by the shoulders, trying to push him away but failing miserably. He can only squirm as Kurt pins him down.

Kurt pins JD by straddling his chest, effectively pinning down the fucker’s arms. No doubt he brought another gun, and Kurt wasn’t intending on letting him get a chance to use it. He grabs JD’s collar, violently shaking his head.

“Haven’t you done enough damage, you fucking dick?” Kurt demands, pulling back his fist, ready to deliver the hardest punch he’s ever given in his life.

“Whoa! Bro! Dude! It’s me, man!” JD screams, but it doesn’t sound like JD, and that’s enough to give Kurt pause.

He peers at the person underneath him, trying to make out something recognizable from under the haze of darkness. “Ram, what the _fuck_?” Kurt demands.

“I just wanna talk, dude!”

Kurt responds by carrying through with his initial punch. “Fuck you, man. Get out of my room.” He swings himself over Ram’s chest and trudges back to his bed.

Ram dashes ahead of him, standing between Kurt and his bed. His cheek is bright red from the punch, which is nice to see. “Listen, man, I know that was shitty, but…I just…I’m just happy that you’re okay.” Ram throws his arms around Kurt in the biggest bro-hug he could manage, but Kurt shoves him away within five seconds.

“No. Fuck you. You don’t get to pull that kind of shit and get away with it!”

“Will you at least let me explain myself?”

“That bullshit at school today can explain itself just fine!”

“Come on. Please?” And of course Ram has to go flashing his puppy dog eyes, just because he knows that Kurt can’t say no to them.

Sighing, Kurt collapses back against his bed. “Anything beats sleeping.”

While Ram’s eyes fill with concern at the sound of that, he doesn’t say anything. “I’ve been dealing with that shit for three whole weeks, dude, and it doesn’t get any easier.”

“Right. It must be so difficult to stand there and watch someone else get harassed.”

Ram lies beside Kurt on the bed. He stares up at the ceiling as he speaks. “Do you know how much shit I have to go through at the lunch table? I gotta fight tooth and nail to make sure they know I’m not gay.”

“Dude, that ship has sailed.” He raises his arm and points down at himself and Ram. “School fags, right here.” He chuckles, and in that moment, sprawled on his bed with Ram, things feel almost normal.

“Doesn’t mean we should give up. We’ll get it through their fat fucking heads eventually that we’re not gay.”

“And until then, we can’t so much as look at one another or it’ll blow our chances.” Kurt mocks, because even Ram isn’t so stupid as to believe that.

Ram sighs. “I’m trying my best here, man. Would it kill ya to be less passive-aggressive?”

“Would it kill _you_ to not be a colossal dick? I don’t know if you noticed but _your_ life remains in one piece. You get to keep your friends, your lunch table, football…”

That last one catches Ram’s attention. “What?”

“I’m quitting football.” Kurt clarifies.

“You’re quitting football?” Ram bolts upright. “You can’t do that!”

“I’m not going to let those fuckers roast me for hours on end!” Kurt begins, but his irritation quickly fades into a sigh. “Why not be the sissy fag they want me to be and go shopping with the Heathers instead?”

Ram leans closer. “But then I wouldn’t get to see you.”

“You’re seeing me now. Isn’t this enough for you?”

Ram struggles for words, making those weird noises he does when he can’t properly articulate a thought. “Listen, dude, like, I know it sucks, but…it’s just…they go easier on us when we’re not together.”

Kurt stubbornly keeps his eyes on the ceiling. “So I’m losing my best friend for this.”

“Of course not! I still wanna hang out with you, dude. We just…” Ram trails off, unable to find a way to end that and sound nice about it.

“Can’t be anywhere near each other in school.” Kurt finishes for him. “Or in public.”

“I mean, kind of…”

“No. Fuck you. I don’t want your friendship or your fucking pity. I don’t need this shit.”

“What? Because you’re best girlfriends with the Heathers now?” Ram puffs out his chest the way he does when he’s challenging someone, but Kurt doesn’t even blink.

He springs into an upright position, putting his face right in front of Ram’s as he speaks. “Yeah, actually. Ram, when the three recovering mega-bitches of the school are nicer to me than you are, maybe you should rethink your fucking behavior.”

Much to his shock, Ram deflates immediately. “I know. I’m a douchenozzle.”

“Damn straight.” Kurt mutters as he spreads back out on his bed. As much as he wants to laugh at Ram going from argumentative to agreeable in two seconds flat, he’s trying to prove a point.

“I’m sorry.” Ram lies back as well, but he lies on his side to better stare at Kurt. “So can I ask you something?”

Kurt glares at Ram from the corner of his eye. “What?”

“Why did you attack me when I came in here? I do that all the time and you never bat an eye.”

 _That was before I had graphic nightmares about both of us getting killed._ Kurt just shrugs. “I thought you were JD.”

“JD? Why?” Because of course he has to push it.

“I don’t know!” Kurt snaps. “Why can’t I fucking sleep? Why am I pissing my pants about being home alone for the first time since I was seven? Why did my life suddenly turn to shit? I wish I knew, but I fucking don’t.”

There’s a beat of silence before Ram scoots a little closer. “I mean, if you don’t feel safe…” Ram trails off. It takes him a beat to regain his courage. “I could, like, stay with you. We could get a couple beers and watch some TV or something?”

God, fuck Ram. Fuck him for thinking that they could revert back to normal with anything major. Like the second they share a beer, it’s like the outside world doesn’t exist and Kurt wouldn’t be walking back into a living hell. But most of all, fuck Kurt for wanting to go along with it. He wants nothing more than to shed the ill will between him and Ram, because not only is Ram his best friend, he isn’t particularly fun to snap at constantly. It’s like kicking a big, dumb, cute puppy.

Ram offers him a sheepish smile. “Punch it in?” Christ, he almost sounds like he’s begging.

“Punch it in.” Kurt confirms, bumping Ram’s fist with his own.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> dead gay son juxtaposition
> 
> dead gay juxtaposi-son

Come the next day, it’s like a spell has broken.

He wakes up alone, and he knows that Ram had gone far out of his way not to wake Kurt up, because Kurt clearly remembers passing out draped over Ram’s lap.

Kurt groans at the memory. God, he’s a mess. A whiny, needy, touch-starved mess. He rolls onto his stomach, staring at the seven empty beer cans lying at foot of his bed. At least he could blame it on being half-drunk. From his experience, that gave him a free pass to cuddle as much as he wanted. Fuck, he wouldn’t even drink that much at parties, he’d just pretend to and curl up on some hot chick’s lap while she stroked his hair.

The second he sits up, he’s assaulted with a pounding headache and an overwhelming sense of exhaustion. He winces, but the pain actually comes as a relief. It’s a small price to pay for the dreamless sleep he got.

Kurt walks to school. Normally, he would go in Ram’s truck, but since Ram is being a fuck, there’s absolutely no chance at that. Think of the implications! Two gay boys? In the same car? The humanity. Kurt rolls his eyes.

As he approaches his locker, he finds the Heathers, Martha, and Veronica scrubbing at its surface. “What are you doing?” he asks, causing them all to jump and spin.

McNamara flashes him a sympathetic look. “You don’t wanna know what was written on it.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Ram make a hard left and completely duck into a nearby hallway. Kurt rolls his eyes, because first of all, that’s the complete opposite of where his class is, and secondly, really? Guess he was a fucking idiot to think that they could even be in the same room without Ram losing his shit over the implications. And here he thought they’d actually made progress.

Heather Chandler follows his line of sight but says nothing about it. Instead, she peers at him before turning to McNamara and signing something. McNamara passes the message on to Kurt.

“Kurt, how much sleep did you get last night?” she asks.

Kurt wracks his brain. When did he pass out? Well, he clearly remembered seeing the sunrise out of his living room window before he blacked out, so probably not that much. “I dunno. A couple hours?”

Chandler signs something at the other four. They all nod.

“Martha and I have study hall right now.” Veronica says. “We got this.” She starts off down a separate hallway, motioning for him to follow.

And for whatever reason, he does. He isn’t sure when Ram’s going to start actually showing up to the classes that they have together, but he knows that he doesn’t want to be around to see it. He’ll gladly take any out he can get.

The girls lead him to this far-off supply closet, well away from the majority of the lockers and even most of the classrooms.

“What is this?” Kurt glances around as Veronica swings open the door. A gigantic cushion rests propped up against the far wall, accented with a metric fuckton of pillows. And he’s pretty sure…yeah, that’s liquor in the corner.

“Well, it used to be a supply closet, but now it’s the official Heathers relaxation room.” Veronica explains. “We just wanted to show you where it was in case you wanted to ditch class and sleep?”

Kurt doesn’t need much more invitation than that. He falls face-first into the giant cushion that takes up half the room to find it incredibly soft. Like, damn. This is better than his bed. Veronica and Martha flank him on both sides.

Veronica pats his head. “So do you wanna, you know…talk about it?”

“Whatever.”

There’s a moment’s pause before everything comes spilling out of him.

“Ram’s being a faggot idiot douchebag asshole.”

“Jeez, Kurt, tell us how you really feel.” Veronica mutters.

“Well, I really feel like Ram should jump off a bridge.” Suddenly Kurt springs upright, flailing his arms. “I mean, he can’t just pretend that everything’s okay and talk to me and act like things are normal and then go back to not giving a shit the second there are people around! Like, what the fuck? What kind of asshole does that?”

Veronica sucks a breath in through her teeth. “That’s really shitty.” She glances over at Martha, and Kurt can feel them having a silent conversation over his head. “I’m gonna go check on Heather.” Her excuse is so weak that she doesn’t even specify a Heather before she leaves.

It’s then, once Veronica’s gone and the silence is heavy between them, that Martha speaks up. “Ram can be pretty mean sometimes, huh?”

“Try ‘a complete fucking jackass.’” Kurt mutters, before he realizes who exactly he’s talking to. “But I’m sure you know that.”

“I don’t think he means any of it.” Martha continues. She scoots a little closer and rests a hand on his knee. “He’s just…defensive. About something. I wish I knew what that was, but it seems like he really wants to keep that secret.”

Kurt pauses for a moment. “Does he still call you Martha Dumptruck?”

“No.”

“Good. I’d have to kick his ass for you otherwise.” He’s quickly finding Martha too nice to be not even a little protective of her.

He gets her to laugh a little with that comment, but she’s considerably more sober when she speaks again. “You know, he did the exact same thing to me in kindergarten. Well, not the exact same, obviously. But he just started ignoring me when we were in public, so he could save his reputation. We’d meet after school and stuff. Go to secret places where we knew no one else would be. Then he started ignoring me altogether. Then he started smacking lunch trays out of my hands every day at lunch.”

“Jesus, I’m sorry.” Kurt can’t say anything more because what is he supposed to say to that? Especially when she’s pumped him full of dread and anticipation of when Ram turns on him too? Everything about it just seems so cold and methodical, all the things he thought Ram was too dumb to pull off. Then again, he’s thought a lot of things about Ram that have recently turned out to be completely wrong.

“You get used to it after a bit.” Martha tells him, and Kurt’s horrified to see her eyes getting glassy.

“Oh no. Please don’t cry.” Kurt looks around desperately for a box of tissues or a blanket or something, but there’s nothing around. So he wipes her tears with his thumb. “Ram’s a dick, but he’s nothing to get worked up over.”

She shakes her head. “I’m fine.”

“Bro, you’re crying.” He points out. His hands are shaking with uncertainty as he pulls her into a hug. “Come on. It’s okay.”

She hugs him back, but he quickly realizes that she’s doing way more comforting than he is. Martha runs a hand through his hair, and he almost melts on the spot. Still, he keeps hugging her, because it’s the least he can do right now.

Then the idea hits him.

Kurt pulls back a bit. “Martha, can I ask you a weird fucking favor?”

“Umm…maybe?” She looks almost terrified as she answers.

“Okay, so I’ve been having the worst fucking nightmares of my life, right? But they tone down if I’m around another person. So, I know I probably freak you out, but please, I just need to fucking sleep.”

Martha’s face lights up in a smile. “You wanna be cuddle buddies?”

“…uh, sure?” Why did she have to word it that way? At least no one else was around to hear that.

Even if he hates the phrase, Martha is the best “cuddle buddy” he’s ever had. She’s warm and soft and totally comfy. She actually reminds him a lot of his mom—but that’s a thought he can’t afford to have right now. _Focus on one disaster at a time, Kurt_. Can’t be bringing up shit from the past to add to the pity party.

Sit down. Shut up. Focus on your breathing, idiot. Once everything is sufficiently out of his brain, he falls asleep in no time at all.

The nightmare has a brand new twist this time.

He’s running, as usual, and JD’s screaming nonsensical shit about dinosaurs from behind him, and it feels like he’s trying to sprint his way through a swimming pool full of honey. So that much is the same.

Except this time the dream doesn’t end with him getting shot.

The bullet pierces Kurt’s side, sending electroshocks all the way up his body. He hits the ground, and then the screams, JD, everything is gone. Kurt’s left panting and staring at the ground, until a pair of feet walk in front of his line of sight.

Ram.

Kurt reaches out a hand, but Ram does nothing to help him up.

Instead, Ram just stares at him, looking the very epitome of unimpressed, and reaches into his jacket. The football fucks materialize behind him, throwing taunts and jeers. Kurt can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can tell from the way that they’re gesturing that it’s definitely not anything nice. There’s something inhuman about Ram’s eyes, the way that they’re glinting. He flashes a smile—a _JD type of smile_ —pulls out a gun, aims it at Kurt’s face, and shoots.

He jolts awake screaming.

Someone’s grabbing his face. “Kurt, Kurt! Look at me!”

The haze in his vision quickly clears, and he realizes that it’s Martha that he’s looking at.

Her shoulders sag in relief. “There you are.” She scans his face carefully. “Are you okay?”

Kurt exhales the breath he’s holding, realizing his throat is dry. Great. So she got to see the panic attack and everything. “…Yeah. Fine.”

“That was the toned down version?” Martha clarifies.

Well, no. The nightmares were as bad as before, so it hadn’t worked. But why? It worked just fine when Ram had stuck around. Then again, he barely knew Martha. Maybe it had to be someone that he really trusted. Yeah. That was probably it. Kurt nods anyway.

Martha pulls him in for an actual hug. “I’m sorry you have to go through that.”

Kurt relaxes against her, allowing himself to be held for at least a little while, because a little while is all he can manage before the nagging thoughts come back to his consciousness. “Martha?”

“Yeah?”

“Did he…did Ram tell you that people were easier on you guys when you were apart?”

She nods. “Something like that.”

That’s exactly what he didn’t want to hear. “Fuck.”

Martha’s face crumbles in sympathy, and she soothingly pats his back. “I’m sure that things won’t turn out the same way.”

Kurt makes a noncommittal grunt in response and pulls away.

They sit in silence for a moment before Martha scoots over next to him again.

“You actually don’t start dreaming into an hour of sleeping,” she tells him. “So I could try waking you up every twenty minutes or so?”

God, he’d do anything for rest that doesn’t end with a panic attack. “That sounds awesome, actually.”

By the end of second period, he wakes up feeling not so rested as he does slightly less exhausted. And whatever. He’ll take what he can get.

He’s decidedly pissed, for both his sake and Martha’s. Honestly, Martha’s so sweet, why the fuck had he been such an asshole to her in the first place? Regardless, he’s getting both of them a little bit of revenge.

So at lunch, he makes sure to say Ram’s name extra loud when giving a physical reference for dick sizes.

**

He doesn’t see Kurt when he’s walking to his locker.

He doesn’t see Kurt talking and laughing with _Martha Dumptruck_ of all people, and he doesn’t get super jealous as a result.

And he definitely doesn’t see Kurt having a way better time than he’s having. He has dark circles under his eyes from last night still, and he barely looks awake as is. But then all he has to do is laugh or even just smile, and his face _lights up_. All of a sudden, the color is back in his face, and he looks actually happy.

All without Ram.

And is that going to change? Probably not. The two of them are absolutely fucked when it comes to their friendship, so Ram will just have to suffer. He was hoping that they could at least hang out late at night, that he could keep it together in front of Kurt, but it turns out that he’s a way bigger pussy than he first thought.

Kurt passing out on him was the last straw. Like, the truth is right there staring everyone down, staring Ram down. Fuck, he can only imagine what kind of disaster it would’ve been if Kurt woke up to find Ram’s hard-on prodding his stomach. No joking would get him out of that one.

Kurt’s gotten the short end of the stick about fifteen times over. But if Ram will argue that he has one thing worse, it’s that he was far from ready to come out of the closet. See, Kurt isn’t actually gay. Ram, well…Ram is. And that’s a secret he’s gotta keep.

There’s really no point, he guesses. His secret’s out to everyone, but that doesn’t mean he’ll accept that control being taken away from him. Not because of the judgment or the football team pricks—he deals with that already anyway. No, it’s about Kurt. Because if Kurt finds out that Ram’s actually gay, it’ll probably only be a matter of minutes before he realizes that Ram’s been in love with him for the better part of six years now. And then? Well, Kurt’s already made it clear how he feels about this whole thing. If he found out Ram was gay, that would be the end of it.

God, he can’t even fathom losing Kurt, even when it’s happening right in front of him. But that’s different, in a way. If Kurt knew, like actually knew, that Ram was gay, he could only imagine the fallout.

Really, he’s wasting his time. Everything he thinks will go wrong? Already going on. Kurt probably hating him? Kurt already hates him. Kurt never talking to him again? Already there.

Talk about a self-fulfilling prophecy.

As he’s walking to the football field, a familiar laugh catches his attention. He offers a customary scowl in Veronica’s direction, but stops short when he sees her with more than Martha Dumptruck.

He sees Kurt leaving school with the Heathers, and Kurt and McNamara get in the backseat Heather Chandler’s Porsche. Oh yeah. He’d heard that Kurt was getting rides from the Heathers nowadays. Is it bad that he wants to pluck Kurt right out of that car and never let him go? Kurt would pound his ass into the ground for that.

Ram internally sighs as he forces himself to look away from Kurt and at the group of jock assholes he’s forced to take abuse from basically every day.

“So why the fuck has Kelly missed two practices in a row?” Scott demands.

“Coach told me he’s quitting.” Eric pipes up.

Jimmy rolls his eyes. “Oh, what? Is the princess scared of chipping her nail polish?”

“Guys, guys.” Craig chides. “We all know that that time of the month can be extra rough on a lady. Leave Kurt alone.” He high-fives the nearest asshole.

Then this little freshman shit—who Ram thinks is named Greg—throws in his opinion like it matters. “Really, though. You saw Princess getting weepy over the way we were talking to her.”

“Her poor princess feelings couldn’t take it.” Jacob adds with a laugh, and it’s at that point that Ram decides he’s done with their shit.

“Well, maybe if you guys weren’t a bunch of asses to him, we wouldn’t be losing our star quarterback!” Ram snaps. He realizes a second too late that that was a mistake.

“Me- _ow_.” Scott teases.

“Come on, guys, back off.” Jimmy pipes up. “He’s just trying to defend his maiden’s honor.”

Ram rolls his eyes. “Oh, fuck off.” He straightens his shoulders and feigns like they hadn’t just efficiently sliced at his Achilles’ heel. They could insult him all day—and for the most part they did—but the second that they started picking on Kurt was the second that he lost his composure. “I didn’t realize that I was the only guy on this team that cared about winning.” Because he had to try.

Scott laughs dryly. “ _Right_ ,” he says with a roll of his eyes, and the rest of the team joins in on laughing at Ram.

Dammit, he has to try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> at this point i'm just listening to "back to december" writing this fic and crying


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Paul is right when he says bois are stupid

It’s Paul’s first night home.

They share dinner, which is pleasant enough, but Kurt can’t shake the feeling that he’s been undoubtedly pitied. His dad watches Kurt pick through his dinner like he’s a lost puppy left out in the cold. Paul Kelly is just about the least sympathetic person on the planet, so the fact that he’s so much as offering to watch TV with Kurt is the highest level of unsettling.

But at the very least, he doesn’t try and get Kurt to talk about anything, and so long as Kurt isn’t sitting across the dinner table from Paul, he can’t see the pitying looks being shot his way.

By the time midnight rolls around, Kurt has pussied out a grand total of three times.

The first time, he gets to his door before turning the fuck back around, getting into bed, and deciding he can deal with it on his own. It’s a grand total of five minutes before he realizes how stupid that idea is and considers trying again, but all he ends up doing in throwing a pillow over his face and whispering a few choice insults to himself.

The third time is the kicker, because he throws himself out of bed and is almost goes into his dad room before he does a last-second redirect and pretends like he was heading towards the bathroom the entire time.

It’s on his way back that he goes in before he can talk himself out of it again.

“Hey, Dad.” Kurt says.

Paul glances up, initially surprised, but recovers reasonably well. “Hey, kiddo. What’s up?”

“Umm, well, this is kinda stupid, I—really stupid actually.” Kurt glances back towards the door. Okay, okay, never mind. “You know what? F-forget it, actually. It’s stupid.”

“Kurt.” Paul’s authoritative voice makes him stop cold. He pats the spot on the bed beside him. “Sit.”

Kurt does as he’s told and sits on the far edge of the bed, as far from his dad as he can manage.

Paul looks over Kurt, scans over his features like he’s reading something. “Something wrong?”

“I mean, not really. It’s no big deal.” Why did he even think this was a good idea? Going up to Paul Kelly, the man who practically invented the word “sissy,” and asking for emotional support? Really? God, this lack of sleeping was making him act retarded as all get-out.

“Now, we both know you wouldn’t be in here if that wasn’t the case.” Paul scoots closer and nudges Kurt’s arm. “So save us both a little bit of time and get to the point.”

Kurt swallows thickly before answering. “I just keep having freak-outs at night. Like, I-I can’t sleep, and then I’m so tired I keep hearing shit, and…this is the dumbest, girliest thing I’ve probably ever said, but I feel safer when someone else is with me?” He dares a peek out of the corner of his eye to see Paul’s face filling with sympathy. A hand falls on his shoulder.

“Kiddo, someone chased you through a cemetery with a gun and almost killed you. It’s not stupid.”

“It feels stupid. I can’t even be home alone that long without freaking out.”

Paul nods understandingly. “What about Ram? I wouldn’t mind him staying over if it helped.”

Kurt digs his fingernails into his arm, as if that could stop his voice from quivering so badly. “Ram won’t talk to me.”

“Oh. Kurt.” Paul wraps an arm around Kurt’s shoulders and pulls him into a half-hug. He buries his face in Kurt’s hair. “I’m sorry that boys are stupid. Bill’s an idiot, too. A good-natured idiot, but an idiot nonetheless. Ram will come around.”

If only that were true. If only he and Ram were a couple of queers going through a lover’s spat, instead of two straight guys the entire town was convinced were gay.

“And if he doesn’t, I’ll kill him.” That gets a laugh out of Kurt, making Paul smile. He rubs Kurt’s shoulder. “I’ll get home earlier. Stop working the night shift. I know this house has its weird noises, and it can get kind of unsettling when you’re home alone.”

Kurt wants to slap himself in the face, because the idea of his dad being home with him actually makes the knots in his chest unwind. What is he? Four? “Thanks. I know that it’s just me being a dumb sissy, but it’s—”

Paul stops him before he can get started. “Kurt, it’s alright to need things. And I think we might have to officially retire the word ‘sissy.’”

“I mean, there’s not a more accurate way to describe me, so we might as well use it.”

Paul sighs. “Bill and I fucked you kids up good, didn’t we?” He pats Kurt’s shoulder. “Well, you may not believe me, but I think that considering everything, you’re handling it all pretty well. Besides, I love my gay son.”

It sounds so stupid, so lame and corny, that Kurt can’t help grinning. Sure, it doesn’t project a sense of normalcy, but his and Paul’s normal involves nothing but sass and insults and intimidation. This…this is new. Better, even.

“Well, you’ve got school in the morning.” Paul says as he turns down his bedspread. “So we should be heading to bed.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Whatever, dude.”

Paul playfully swats Kurt’s shoulder. “Goodnight, Kurt.”

“’Night, Dad.”

**

It’s about three in the morning when Kurt jolts awake, mid-nightmare and mid-panic attack. It’s a miracle he got to sleep in the first place, since he’s sleeping in the same bed as his dad like a scared fucking sissy three-year-old, but now that doesn’t matter because he’s as awake as he’ll ever be.

His ears are still ringing from imaginary gunshots, a fake bullet flying around in his skull. And despite the fact that he’s still awake and conscious of the world around him, he’s simultaneously trapped in his dreams, and the only thing he can see is his dream being played out at five times the speed, on constant repeat.

Ram’s on the floor bleeding out and Paul tried to help as best as he could but now he’s dead too and Kurt’s leg is bleeding and nothing can stop JD from leveling the gun right in between Kurt’s eyes and—

Kurt finally becomes aware of where he is and what’s going on after his throat is dry and his head is throbbing. He places a hand over his heaving chest to feel his heart knocking against his breastbone.

“Oh my God.” Paul breathes, and that’s when Kurt realizes he’s awake. His eyes are wide and terrified, and he’s staring at Kurt like Kurt had morphed into some kind of monster right before his eyes. Unable to say anything more, he pulls Kurt into a fierce hug.

“Kurt, I’m so sorry.”

Suddenly Kurt feels sick to his stomach.

There’s no getting away from it, is there?

He waits until his dad has fallen back asleep to sneak out, because there’s no reason Paul should lose out on sleep because his sissy loser faggot son can’t keep it together.

“This is fine.” Kurt mutters to himself as picks up one of their few books from the tiny bookshelf. “I’ll just never go to sleep.”

His reading skill was shit anyway. Might as well use the time to get better at school. It’s not like he has a football career anymore.

He goes back to his room and curls up in bed, struggling his way through a book he probably should’ve been able to get through by freshman year.

It’s about an hour later that he hears his lock being picked, and his heart rate then kicks into overdrive. It pains him to know how stupid he’s being, because of course it’s Ram on the other side, but the rest of his body is still trying to tell him he should run for his life.

Thank God Ram makes quick work of it, because Kurt was already halfway convincing himself that JD had gotten out of wherever he was locked up, killed Ram, and was on his way here to finish off Kurt.

But just because he has one foot in a panic attack doesn’t mean he’s not gonna try and play it cool and it definitely doesn’t mean that he’s not still pissed. When the door creaks open, Kurt doesn’t even look up from the book he’s reading. “My dad’s in the other room. If you take one more step, I’ll scream. And then he’ll come in, and then I’ll tell him that you tried to hit me, or rape me, or whatever.”

Ram lets the door shut behind him. “What?”

Kurt goes on as if he didn’t speak. “Why don’t we make it easier for both of us and just not be friends anymore? That way you don’t have to lose your precious reputation and I don’t have to waste my fucking time. So leave.”

Ram’s about to take another step, but he quickly stops himself. “But I still wanna be friends.”

“Good for you. I want to be around people that aren’t ashamed to be near me.”

“Kurt, you know it’s not like that…it’s just…”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “Spare me the sob story and leave. I know exactly what’s gonna happen, so why don’t we cut the crap and skip to the end?”

“God, Kurt, do you even hear yourself? Are you really drinking the Heathers Kool-Aid that hard?”

“I guess I am. And it tastes like faggotry and people that give a shit.” Kurt eases the book in his lap shut. He stares forward, not giving Ram the privilege of eye contact. “So I guess I’ll say it one more time, since I doubt it’s getting through. _Leave_.”

The anger escapes Ram’s face, leaving nothing but desperation in its wake. “Kurt, you can’t—”

“Go _away_ , Ram.”

Ram straightens up, as if that’s a challenge. “No.”

Kurt climbs off his bed, squaring his shoulders to match Ram’s stance. “Alright.” Then Kurt _nails_ himself in the face as hard as he can manage. Then, when he’s on the floor, he screams.

Paul materializes in seconds. “What the hell is going on?” Paul demands. He makes a beeline for his kid, and upon seeing Kurt’s reddening cheek, he sucks in a sharp breath through his teeth. “Jesus,” he mutters.

“I told him that I didn’t want to fuck him and he punched me in the face!” Kurt accuses, and he sounds so convincing that Ram almost believes it himself.

Paul’s face twists with absolute fury, so much so that Ram flinches when they make eye contact. “Ram, get the fuck out of my house.” Paul spits.

“But—”

“ _Ram_.”

“…Okay.” His head bowed, Ram treks back home.

He doesn’t come back after that.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> kurt is sad, but mainly because he's in a short filler chapter

From that day on, Kurt begins to spiral.

Nothing’s helping.

After a full week of barely any sleep, all the girls are on “get Kurt to sleep” patrol. They catch him during his study hall, and even though none of them have the same study hall as him, stay with him in the “official Heathers relaxation room.”

They all ask him the same fucking thing. “Do you wanna talk about it?” And then when he says no, they do all the talking for him—specifically about the nightmares. Turns out that Martha can’t keep a fucking secret. He doesn’t blame her, though, because she’s just worried, and he can’t help but feel the tiniest bit appreciative about that.

He’s not sure what’s worse, though. Because when he falls asleep, they stop talking, but it’s only a matter of time before the nightmares come back to bite him. And no one can help him with that. Martha’s still an A+ cuddle buddy, but she doesn’t do anything to help. Same with Heather McNamara. He appreciates the fact that Heather Chandler can’t speak to him or force him to talk, and she’s the most chill with everything. Instead of forcing him to sleep, most of the time, she only takes out a bottle of wine and teaches him more sign language. Heather Duke seems overjoyed to be an official “fag hag.” Veronica only made the flashbacks worse.

He scares the shit out of one of them at least once a day, twice if he looks unwell enough to be sent to the nurse’s office.

In the meantime, he sees absolutely nothing of Ram. He’s not sure if Ram’s intentionally avoiding him, or if it’s mere coincidence, but he can’t say that he isn’t a bit relieved. But also pissed. And kind of lonely. He doesn’t even know what he’s feeling anymore.

Maybe he shouldn’t have gone about kicking Ram out the way he did. It felt nice at the time, but now he just feels like a petty bitch. Ram’s an idiot and an asshole and pretty much every single insult that Kurt can think of, but it still was kind of mean of him to respond in kind.

He declines the usual offer of going to Chandler’s place and getting wasted, and of course Heather frowns, because he still has yet to even once take her up on that offer. Not that he didn’t want to drink until he couldn’t feel feelings anymore, but his dad had cut back on his hours to stay at home. Kurt wasn’t going to ditch him after that.

He pulls to a stop when he hears Ram’s dad and his dad talking. Normally, he wouldn’t think anything of it, but their voices are strained, slowly edging closer and closer to pissed. Maybe he’s walked into something he shouldn’t have. But it’s too late now. He stays in the main hallway to make sure no one sees him and listens in.

“So you’re still not going to do anything, huh?” Paul snaps.

“What am I supposed to do? We don’t know anything. Ram wouldn’t do something like that.” Bill defends.

“Well, he did.”

“Did you see it?”

“I saw my fucking kid on the floor in pain after I heard him scream. What more do you need?”

“Look, all I’m saying is that it’s not like Ram to do something like that. I know they’re fighting, and I know Kurt’s pissed right now. I don’t blame you for siding with him, but I don’t think you’re being very objective. Who’s to say that Kurt didn’t hurt himself and throw the blame on Ram to get Ram out of the house?”

“Are you calling my kid a liar?” Paul asks, his voice dripping with disbelief.

“You’re calling my kid a rapist.” Bill replies.

There’s a creaking noise that Kurt knows is the shift of their old couch. Paul’s probably leapt to his feet in a display of overdramatic aggression. “You know what, Bill? Just…get out of here.”

The couch creaks again. “Gladly.”

“Don’t let the door hit your ass on the way out!” Paul calls after him.

Bill breezes past Kurt, not even sparing him a glance on his way by. The door slams loudly behind him.

“Bastard.” Paul mutters. It’s not long before he’s rounding the exact same corner to come face to face with his son.

It’s a long, tense moment of Paul and Kurt staring at each other before Paul breaks into an uneasy, almost sad, smile.

“Welcome home.”

That night, Kurt’s nightmare is exclusively about Ram.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> it's like dead girl walking but with cuddling

The voice looming over him is frantic. “Ram? Ram! Ram, wake up, man!”

Ram awakens with a spasm and bolts upright. Doing so, however, causes him to smack foreheads with the someone that’s hanging over him—well, at least they were. Now they’re on the floor. He leans over the side of the bed. “What? Who? …Kurt?”

Kurt looks horrible. The dark circles under his eyes are more pronounced than ever, his cheeks are hollow, and his body won’t stop shaking.

“Did you just break into my house?” Like, forget for a second that Kurt never wants to see him again. How did he even get in here? Ram’s the lock picker; Kurt’s the lookout.

Kurt snaps upright, his breath shaky as he explains himself. “I had to know you weren’t dead.”

“Dead? Dude, are you okay?” What the fuck had happened for Kurt to think Ram might be dead?

“F-fine.” Kurt stutters out, despite the fact that he’s hugging himself and breathing like he’s on the verge of a panic attack.

Ram furrows his brow. “Yeah. I can tell.” Maybe he shouldn’t risk overstepping his bounds, but he does anyway. He kneels beside Kurt and pats his shoulder. Kurt looks even worse up close. When was the last time he even slept? “Dude, you need to go home and go to sleep.”

“No. No.” Kurt’s hands knot in his shirt. “I can’t. All that shit’ll come back, man. It’s been _weeks_. I can’t take it anymore! If I go one more night without sleeping, I’ll go insane!”

Was he still freaking out about JD and all that? Was _that_ was this was about? “Dude, you’re not making any sense. What’s wrong?”

Kurt responds by breaking down in tears. His entire body is shaking. “I can’t…I can’t…” he whimpers. “I’m sorry I’ve been a dick but I can’t anymore. I can’t…”

“No, it’s okay, man. You can stay. That’s alright. We’ve got the guest bed—” Ram is cut off by Kurt yanking him forward by the collar.

“Listen, you stupid motherfucker.” Kurt growls. He somehow looks more intimidating with bloodshot eyes and tears running down his face. “You’ve done nothing but be shitty to me and ignore me since I’ve _gotten fucking shot_. And for whatever reason, you make the nightmares go away. So you at least owe it to me to do that. And then maybe I’ll think of forgiving you. You bitch. Cuddle me.”

Ram knows better than to argue. With wide eyes, he nods, so rapidly he looks like a bobble head. “S-sure thing, man.” He’s getting outed tonight. He’s sure of it.

That thought is only more so confirmed when Kurt lays his head on Ram’s shoulder. God, why does his best friend have to be so goddamn cute?

There’s a moment of silence before Ram dares speaking up. “So I’m the only person that helps with…this?” Ram gestures blindly at Kurt and hopes that he’ll understand what Ram’s trying to convey with that.

“I mean, I’ve tried cuddling with other people, and all I ended up doing was scaring the shit out of Martha and everyone else.” Kurt sounds so defeated as he talks. “Then I thought that maybe I had to be around someone I trusted, but Paul didn’t help either. Being around you is the only thing that helps.”

Ram can’t help the way that his chest flutters at the sound of that.

Kurt continues, “I’m sorry for being so shitty. I’m just pissed at everything and you didn’t deserve me taking it out on you.”

“It’s okay, dude. I get it. It’s hard.” Fuck the fact that he’s still hurt that Kurt wanted to be near him so little that he’d fake getting hit and call in his dad to break them apart. He doesn’t care. He just needs Kurt.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not a royal dick anyway.”

“Whatever, bro. It’s forgotten.” _Can’t lose him. Can’t lose him. Can’t lose him._ “And I’m sorry about, like, ignoring you and stuff. I know it seems like I’m being an asshole—and I totally am—but the team is, like, _awful_ when it comes to that, and I didn’t want you to have to deal with that like I did.”

If Kurt has a counterargument, he doesn’t voice it. Kurt goes silent for a moment before letting out a heavy sigh. “I think I made our dads break up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I came home earlier today and they were fighting about the whole thing. I don’t think they’re talking to each other anymore.” Kurt runs a frustrated hand through his hair. “I’m really sorry for pulling that shit, man. It was fucked up of me.”

“It’s okay. You wanted me to leave and I was being a shitty friend by not listening.” Ram chuckles. “I kinda deserved it.”

“No, you didn’t.” Kurt sighs, his eyes straying back to the bed. “Listen, I really need to sleep, so if we could like…”

“Yeah. Sure thing, man.” Ram throws himself onto his bed and lays out his arm, intending for Kurt to chill there, but realizes the implications and starts stuttering. “So, uh, like what level of touching are we talking about? ’Cause no offense, dude, but I don’t wanna make it too gay.”

“This is fine.” Kurt climbs up and rests his head on Ram’s outstretched arm. “Plus, I know you’re straight, and you know I’m straight, so it’s no big deal.”

Ram bites his lip. “Right.”

Kurt chuckles. “I mean, unless you decide to turn gay on me.”

“As if! You’re clearly the faggot here, dude.” Ram was planning to say more, but by the time he’s done with his first sentence, it’s clear that Kurt’s already dead asleep.

**

Kurt bolts upright, a scream halfway up his throat.

Weirdly enough, his surroundings flash back into place within seconds, and he’s able to stop himself before he scares the fuck out of whoever’s on Kurt-watching duty today.

“Whoa, dude, are you okay?”

Kurt places a hand over his chest. His heart is still beating like crazy, yeah, but his throat and mouth aren’t dry. He hadn’t had a panic attack.

“Dude?” A hand is rubbing up and down his back. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

Wait a second. There’s no way that voice can belong to any of the girls. Right. Ram. Ram’s the one touching him. Okay.

“I’m fine.” Kurt’s shocked to find that that’s actually true. “What time is it?”

Ram peers at the clock behind him. “Like, three a.m.” There’s a small pause before Ram begins to sit up. “You alright? Can you get back to sleep?”

Can he? Sure, he’s exhausted, but he’s always tired. He’s beyond used to it. But now it’s…different. He almost feels like he could get back to sleep, just because of how oddly safe he feels right now.

Without a response, Ram goes on to add. “Do you need, like, a hug or something?”

Kurt’s about to laugh and say no when he realizes how badly his hands are shaking. “…Yeah.”

It’s painfully natural to feel Ram’s arms wrap around his shoulders, guiding him against a warm body.

He falls back asleep then and there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> lmao i've had most of this chapter written before chapter 2 was even done


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> another short chapter about two gay dudes cuddling

The next time Ram comes to, thankfully, Kurt isn’t half-screaming.

It’s actually quite peaceful, and Ram’s about to back to sleep when he realizes, with a start, that Kurt is still in his bed.

Kurt’s still asleep. He must’ve rolled over at some point in the night, because now he’s facing away from Ram. He’s still fast asleep, thank God, because Ram isn’t sure if he can handle seeing Kurt so freaked out because of a nightmare again. It was scary enough the first time.

Kurt shifts slightly, and Ram realizes that he’s got both arms wrapped securely around Kurt’s body. Why did he have to be this way? Kurt would be so freaked out this way, but Ram was fairly certain that trying to free himself would wake Kurt up anyway, so there’s no use in trying to cover it up.

Ram tries to shake the thought. This isn’t weird. Well, it won’t be if Ram doesn’t make it weird. They’ve shared this bed before.

Christ, he couldn’t count the number of times they’d snuck up a six-pack and spent the night laughing over the stupidest shit before they finally passed out. And yeah, Ram’s not ashamed to admit that he has a tendency to grab and cuddle the closest thing within reach, which more or less ended up being Kurt’s leg.

Ram’s smile quickly fades. Except back then, that had been something to laugh about. Back then, every single day wasn’t a fight to prove their straightness to the rest of the school. Back then, he might’ve had the chance of Kurt saying yes to…never mind.

Poor Kurt. He’s had, like, probably the shittiest month ever. Between the football team, their parents, the nightmares, and Ram, he can’t catch a break anywhere. Ram bites his lip, realizing that his arm has inadvertently tightened around Kurt’s waist, and pulls back a little. Yeah, so maybe it’s time to stop spooning with his straight best friend.

He looks behind him at the clock on his nightstand. It’s six, so they have the better part of an hour before they have to get up and get ready for school.

At the sudden lack of warmth, Kurt begins to stir. “Fifteen more minutes, dude.” He blindly reaches a hand behind him, feeling for Ram’s hand. His fingers curl around Ram’s thumb, and he tugs Ram’s arm back over his hip. “It’s fucking freezing in here.” And then he’s passed out again.

Ram shifts his hips back a little, because he’s sure that Kurt wouldn’t appreciate waking up to find Ram’s now-raging boner pressed up against his ass.

Ram feels his face heating up. God, Kurt would be so embarrassed if he knew how gay this was. Especially if he knew that this was the premise for, like, half of Ram’s wet dreams. But he doesn’t need to know that.

He really, really doesn’t need to know that.

Ram stays impossibly still for the next half an hour or so, losing all the feeling in his right arm during, until Kurt begins to stir. He immediately feigns sleep.

He hears Kurt give a small, almost silent laugh as he moved Ram’s arm off of his hip. Ram thinks that’s enough movement to have plausibly woken him up.

“Hey.” Hopefully his grogginess sounds believable. “Did you sleep okay?” Ram asks.

Kurt sits up, leaning back against the headboard. “Yeah. A lot actually.”

“That’s good.” Ram rolls onto his back. “You scared the shit out of me with that nightmare.”

“And that was a mild one.”

“Shit.” Ram wants to make an offer, to either come over to Kurt’s every night or for Kurt to come over to his house, but he thinks the better of it.

It’s weird. It’s crossing a line. And if Ram’s the one proposing it, he feels like he’s just being a sick pervert taking advantage of Kurt’s current fragility. The last thing he wants to do is to take advantage of his best friend.

“Okay, so this is gonna sound fucking stupid…” Kurt begins. “But can I stay here from now on? I know that we’re basically on the border of being gay with all of this, but there’s no way I’m ever sleeping if we don’t.”

“Of course, dude. Whatever you need.”

There’s a small pause before Kurt speaks again.

“So are we just avoiding eye contact or should we make schedules so we don’t have to be in the same class?”

Of course Kurt was still upset.

“Dude…” Ram begins, but he has no idea how he’d even end that.

Much to his relief, Kurt stops him before he can start. “I’m not mad—well, kinda mad. But don’t worry about it.” His eyes stray to Ram’s clock. “I’m gonna head home and shower and stuff. See ya tonight?”

Ram hesitates. “…Yeah.”

From then on, he and Kurt go about their regular days. He skips class when he can, so they don’t have to bump into one another, but when they’re in the same lunch room together, it’s unavoidable. And that’s fine.

Because Ram has a plan that he needs to put into action.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hoo boy does ram have something stupid planned


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> we've reached peak gay
> 
> Terminal veloci-gay

It’s lunch period, and a particularly loud one at that, when a shrill whistle pierces the noise, directing everyone’s attention at none other than Ram Sweeney.

“What the hell is he doing?” Veronica asks as Ram climbs up on nearest lunch table and cups his hands over his mouth.

He surveys the room once, making sure that everyone’s looking at him before he announces, “My name’s Ram Sweeney and I’m a gigantic faggot!” Scattered laughter answers him, and it only makes him stand up straighter. “Yep! That’s right. I’m a huge faggot. This biggest faggot who ever faggot-ed. That’s me!”

Kurt turns to look at Heather Chandler, hoping for some help, but she’s leaned back in her seat, arms crossed and almost smiling as she surveys the spectacle before her.

Once the crowd has finished commenting and generally reacting, he continues, “And I, Ram Sweeney, biggest faggot who ever faggot-ed, am in love with my best bro Kurt Kelly!”

All heads turn towards Kurt, and Veronica repeats her earlier statement of “what the hell is he doing?”

Ram whistles again, both to quiet down the peanut gallery and to make sure attention’s back on him as he continues. “A lot of people have been giving him a lot of shit lately, and so I cordially invite all of you to fuck off.” He spins on the football team. “Especially you guys. Fuck you. I’m quitting the team, and pick on my boyfriend again and I’ll crack your skulls open.” He looks around the lunchroom, sure to make eye contact with at least one person in each clique to better get his point across. “And that goes double for the rest of you dicks! Kurt means the world to me, and I’ll fucking fight anyone that tries to hurt him!” Ram hops down from his lunch table to go right to the one Kurt is sitting at, and Kurt can only watch in horror as Ram climbs over said table and pulls Kurt in for a kiss.

It’s probably just because his heart’s racing and he spent the last two minutes screaming at random people, but it’s the best kiss of his life. Kurt’s lips are soft, and he’s apparently too shocked to push Ram away.

To make sure that he’s making his point—but also to make sure that he doesn’t go overboard and end up making out with Kurt for ten straight minutes—he counts to ten in his head and then breaks the kiss. When he finally pulls back, Kurt’s gaping at him.

Well, chalk that up as being the biggest mistake of his life.

To save face, Ram stands again, facing the lunchroom full of undoubtedly confused and surprised people, and proudly raises his middle fingers on his way out. “Fuck all of you. I’m out.”

Veronica takes a sip from her milk carton. “Well, that’s was an interesting event for a Thursday.”

Kurt gets up from his seat, his legs shaking. “I’ll be right back.”

Once he’s gone, Veronica and Martha share a look.

“You think he finally realized he’s gay?” Martha asks.

“Oh, definitely.” Veronica takes another sip.

Kurt catches Ram before he can leave school. “Dude, wait!”

Ram turns, his sheepish smile already going. “Sorry about springing that on you. I just wanted to make a statement, you know?”

Kurt can’t help deflating at least a little. A statement. Of course. There was no way that that could’ve been a gesture. He was just trying to prove a point to the football douches. Well, at least they could go back to being bros.

“I get it.” Kurt nods. “That was pretty cool of you to do that.”

“Well, considering last night, I felt really bad about everything. And then when I was skipping I started realizing that I was lying to myself a bit. I just wanted something to be the same, and that something ended up being football when it should’ve been us being best bros.”

“Exactly.”

“For fuck’s sake.” The two of them turn to see Martha and Veronica walking towards them. Veronica sighs as she hastily explains to each respective idiot. “Kurt, Ram’s known that he’s gay for six years now. Ram, Kurt’s known that he’s gay for six minutes now. There you go. Stop being idiots and be boyfriends.”

Kurt blanches. “Wait, what?”

And Ram, equally confused and equally pale, repeats that sentiment. “What?”

Veronica rolls her eyes. “I don’t know. Fucking talk to each other to find out. Bye.” She leaves as quickly as she came, leaving Kurt and Ram staring at each other with varying levels of awkwardness.

“So when you said you were in love with me…” Kurt trails off. He scratches at the back of his neck, keeping his eyes on the floor. “You meant it?”

Ram’s face is blazing. “…Uh-huh.”

“…Oh.”

“Yeah.” He fiddles with his sleeve. “And you found out you were gay when I kissed you?”

Kurt ducks his head. “Pretty much.”

“Oh.”

A long, terrible, awkward silence falls between them, and they’re both looking anywhere besides each other until Kurt decides to break the ice by grabbing Ram’s collar and pulling him in for another kiss.

It’s disgusting, and sloppy, and Ram ends up missing the first time and getting a little bit of spit on Kurt’s cheek, but it’s great. Both of their tongues taste like the gross cafeteria food, and Kurt’s terrible with his tongue, and somewhere in the middle, they end up crashing to the floor, but by the time they break apart, they’re both laughing.

“You know, you’re lucky I already knew I was gay for you, because that kiss wouldn’t have convinced me.”

Kurt swipes at his cheek. “Go fuck yourself. At least I can aim!”

Ram rests his head on Kurt’s shoulder. “I guess you have a point.”

“You’re the worst.” Kurt leans his head on top of Ram’s. “You weren’t serious about the football thing, were you?”

Ram cracks a grin, blushing as he asks, “You wanna hear the cheesiest fucking thing ever?” He doesn’t wait for Kurt’s answer. “Because I kind of just wanna be with you all the time.”

Kurt scoffs. “Lame!”

“Oh, fuck you.” Ram answers. “Plus, I’m so sick of hearing the entire team be shitty to you, especially because I know I’d lose if I tried to fight them all at once.”

Kurt laughs at that.

“You still look super tired.” Ram points out. “You wanna ditch and go home to take a nap?”

Grinning, Kurt holds up his fist. “Punch it in?”

“Punch it in.”


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> slightly less long and slightly more gay than the last chapter

Turns out that both boys are in need of a very long nap.

They don’t even make it up to Kurt’s room. Instead, they just crash on the couch and pass out for an indeterminate amount of time. They nap for most of the day but get up early enough to start making out and playing grab-ass for them to not notice Paul coming home.

While Paul was kind of surprised to come home and find Kurt and Ram making out on the sofa, ultimately, he was just happy that the boys were happy and left it at that. Also, he may or may not have left a small basket full of condoms on the coffee table before getting started on dinner.

Dinner is quick and harmless, although a little bit awkward, but Paul has too much pride to offer an apology yet, so the boys leave it at that and head up to Kurt’s room. And as much as Ram wants to initiate round three of heavy petting and tonsil hockey, he instead curls up and dozes while Kurt works.

Kurt’s, like, an entire month behind on homework, and as much as he’d like to do none of it, he has to if he wants to graduate. Now that almost every last source of anxiety is gone, he can actually make an attempt. Needless to say, it’s not going too well.

Once he’s gotten bored with doing nothing, Ram rolls onto his side, staring intently at Kurt until Kurt looks at him.

“What the fuck do you want?” Kurt asks.

Ram shifts, scooting closer so he can push the math textbook off of Kurt’s lap and rest his head against Kurt’s stomach. “I’m sorry that I was such an asshole for, like, your first month back from the hospital. I had my head up my ass, and you got hurt because of it.” He takes Kurt’s free hand and rubs the knuckles with his thumb. “I’m never gonna let anyone be a dick to you ever again.” Ram swears. “And if anyone tries, they’re gonna have a date with my fist. You hear me?”

“You’re so fucking corny.” Nonetheless, Kurt drops his head and presses a kiss onto Ram’s forehead.

Ram grins, and his big dumb smile is like fucking sunshine. “That’s me.”

Kurt rolls his eyes. “I’m going to bed.” He nudges Ram’s head. “That means get off me.”

“But you’re so comfy.” Ram whines.

“Do you want me to get undressed or don’t you?” Kurt asks, and Ram immediately rolls off of him. “That’s what I thought.”

He undresses with the full knowledge that Ram is watching him do so. He shimmies out of his jeans and t-shirt and pulls on a pair of sweatpants while Ram just strips down to his underwear. Not that Kurt’s complaining.

“Cuddle time, motherfucker!” Kurt announces as he flings himself onto the bed. The resulting force makes Ram’s side of the bed pop up, sending him an inch or so into the air.

Kurt burrows under the covers, turning his back to Ram. Ram feigns outrage. “I don’t even get to see your beautiful face.” Ram mutters. “I’ve never been more insulted in my life.”

“Fuck you, I’m little spoon.”

“Why do you get to be little spoon?”

“Um, hello? Two weeks of bullshit?”

“Okay. You’ve got a point.” Ram slides his hand over Kurt’s hip and down his tummy. His bare chest is impossibly warm against Kurt’s shoulder blades. “But I get to be little spoon tomorrow, right?”

Kurt reaches out to turn off his bedside lamp. “I’ll cut you a deal. I get to be little spoon for the next month to make up for this one, and then we arm wrestle for it.”

“Deal.”


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> things happen and people are finally happy yay

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are folks
> 
> i guess it's time i disappear back into the writing void
> 
> really, though, everyone's been so supportive and enthusiastic and it's great and i love all of you

If possible, Ram becomes even gayer than Kurt.

He sits beside Kurt in every class they have together, more often than not with his arm around Kurt, and for the classes they don’t, he acts as an escort. People found out relatively quickly that he wasn’t joking about fighting anyone that insulted Kurt when he punched some prep in the nose. Then at lunch, he and Kurt sit so close that it almost looks like they’re attached at the hip.

The girls are very welcoming, though Heather Chandler does hand him a very long, very detailed note on what will happen if he pulls shit like that on Kurt again, and Veronica’s already given him the lecture on needing to better himself as a person, even though he’s gotten the same speech from Kurt already.

Still, the sense of company that comes from having a group of people that aren’t constantly ragging on your sexuality is new. But most of all, he likes having Kurt around.

It’s nice.

Ram’s hands still shake whenever he reaches out to touch Kurt, especially when putting an arm around Kurt, but he’s getting used to it the more times he does it.

“Gay.” Kurt teases, taking Ram’s free hand and intertwining their fingers.

“Bite me, Gaylord.” Ram answers, pressing a quick kiss to Kurt’s temple.

“In your dreams, you fucking pansy.” Kurt replies. He briefly leans his head against Ram’s shoulder, and they take a moment to stare at one another adoringly.

Out of the corner of his eye, Kurt can see Heather Chandler teasingly signing the world for “vomit.”

“Kelly. Sweeney.”

Kurt and Ram straighten up to find none other than Scott standing in front of them.

“What the fuck do you want?” Ram spits, his arm tightening around Kurt’s shoulders.

“Ram, fucking quit it.” Kurt chides. He takes the hand Ram has locked around his shoulder in his own.

“I just wanna talk.” Scott explains.

Right. “Talk.” Kurt and Ram share a look before they turn to smirk at Scott.

“Okay. So tough shit about the big game last night.” Ram tells him.

“Yeah, I’ve never seen Westerburg lose that badly before.” Kurt adds.

Scott takes a deep breath, clearly gathering his patience before he speaks. “That’s actually what I came to talk to you guys about. You see, the team has made the…unanimous decision that you two should rejoin the team as linebacker and quarterback.”

Kurt fake-gasps. “But what if we get our gay all over the football? This level of faggotry doesn’t wash out with just warm water.”

Scott glares before remembering what he’s supposed to be doing and slaps his composure back on. “Is that a yes?”

Ram raises a finger. “I have conditions.”

“Yes?” You can see the fear flash in Scott’s eyes and it’s beautiful.

“No more jokes about my boyfriend. I get to insult him, because he’s a loser, but that’s it.”

Kurt glares. “Fuck you. I’m dating down by going out with you.”

“Um, fuck you, I’m a catch.” He looks back to Scott. “And I don’t know who’s been writing shit on his locker, I don’t wanna know, stop it. Get me?”

Scott nods. “Done and done.”

“I want someone doing my homework for the next month.” Kurt adds. “And I want it to be A-fucking-plus work, too.”

“An entire fucking month of being little spoon with no homework.” Ram shakes his head. “You conniving little bitch.”

Kurt flashes him a sarcastic smile.

Scott nods again. He seems to be deliberately ignoring the flirting that’s going on right in front of him. “Of course. Is that all?”

Kurt and Ram glance at each other, thinking it over. Because honestly, the entire football team is at their mercy now. They could ask for whatever, and no one could tell them no. Coach wouldn’t let them, not when his star players are on the line.

Then Kurt sees Martha out of the corner of his eye and he knows it’s too late. His conscience is back.

“Yeah. That’s it.”

Ram gives him a look. “But—”

“That’s it.” Kurt repeats. Then a little quieter, “We’ve talked about this, dude.”

“I know.” Ram sighs.

“Anyway,” Scott continues. His grimace is growing more pronounced with each passing second. “So you guys can sit with us again.”

Kurt scoffs. “Yeah, right. I mean, if Ram wants to be a lame fucking douchecanoe, he’s free to join you.”

“Aw, Kurt. Why would I make one of myself when I have you right here?”

“Eat me, asshole.”

Ram hesitates before shaking his head. “It’s too easy.”

Kurt grins. “Just like you.”

“Only for you, babe.”

Scott looks physically pained as he’s forced to witness them kissing up close. “So is that a yes?” he asks again. His voice becomes more strained each time he has to ask.

“It’s a yes.” Kurt answers.

Scott nods. “See you two at practice, then.” He turns to leave, but Kurt stops him.

“Oh, and Scott?” Once he has Scott’s attention, his face breaks into a grin. “Bring ones next time.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i may or may not be considering turning this 'verse into its own series...

**Author's Note:**

> yoo come by my tumblr and scream with me about kurt ram shit :D
> 
> president-homewrecker.tumblr.com


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